


Tea Time

by winter_angst



Series: Tarnished But So Grand [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Implied Mpreg, Kentucky, M/M, Power Imbalance, Self Confidence Issues, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Brock's very first omega tea time doesn't go as planned.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff/Stephen Strange
Series: Tarnished But So Grand [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108256
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Tea Time

**Author's Note:**

> A first installment in a universe I've wanted to explore for awhile.

Brock woke up exhausted, hardly having rested at all the prior night. Jack was still asleep, arms caged around Brock holding him against him. Brock should have been comforted by the embrace and his scent but he couldn’t be. Not when there was so much he had to do and so much on the line. His Bonding with Jack was still new; his position in the tight knit community was tentative and rocky. Today was his chance at establishing himself, proving that he could fit in with the high-class omegas that were part of the country club. A country club that Brock himself was now a part of -- despite his pleas otherwise. 

It was a weekly occurrence, a rotation of hosting tea at their Alpha’s home. Where Brock had grown up there were no weekly tea times, much less country clubs, and Brock was feeling very out of his element. Jack wouldn't hear his objections, firmly reminding him that Brock was a representation of him and that included his participation in social events like fundraisers, book clubs and tea times. These were all things that Brock had no interest in but it wasn’t about his interests, it was about his appearances. He had known what would be expected of him when Jack began to court him and now he needed to do his part. He tested Jack’s hold to see if he could slip out of bed without waking him. 

“Where are you going?” Jack asked, eyes still shut. 

“Shower.” 

“I’ll join you.” 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Jack cracked an eye open at that and Brock quickly corrected himself. “Please.”

His eye slid shut and he hummed in approval letting go of Brock in favor of stretching his arms above his head. Brock got out of bed, still naked from their eventful evening, and headed into the bathroom. He turned the shower as hot as he could stand and stepped under the waterfall stream. Miserable he stood there, water streaming over him. When he first came to live with Jack he had been starstruck by all the luxuries around him. It was all so different from the little house he’d grown up in with his nonna. His nonna had worked hard to make him as refined as possible to Bond him above their social status and she had achieved that. A backwoods omega had found himself slotted into a role that was meant for a socialite -- and now he was paying for it. 

Being submissive and agreeable was different from knowing how to interact with other omegas. In his experience they were catty and he imagined having money made them even more so. Brock wasn’t catty; he avoided confrontation when he could, for the sake of his appearance and Jack’s, and he was terrified what today could bring. These omegas would carry back news on what Jack Rollins’ new omega was worth. He could tarnish Jack’s reputation with one misstep. Brock had no idea how Jack was so calm and collected; clearly he had too much faith in Brock. That or Brock had sold himself too much. Either way his facade was about to be realized when he made a fool out of the both of them. 

Brock rested his head against the mosaic tiling and wallowed in his pity for a bit before he tried to piece himself together. Failure or not his nonna had taught him to put his all into things, whether he felt they were a waste of time or not. He tried to hurry through the rest of his shower, having wasted precious time feeling sorry for himself. Jack came in halfway through, shaving. Jack was naked, his muscular body on display. On any other day he would welcomed a request to join him in the shower but this morning he was too distracted for sex. He could still appreciate his form. Brock toweled off before going to the closet. He dressed down to shop; the tea time outfit was in a garment bag hanging in the walk-in. Jack had finished shaving and had stepped into the shower when Brock went in to brush his teeth and fix his hair. 

“You’re going to be fine.” Jack said firmly and Brock tensed up and the firmness of voice. 

“Yes sir.” Brock said dutifully, though he really doubted it. 

He wasn’t supposed to doubt his Alpha, it wasn’t proper, but he couldn’t help it. It was like he was on the cusp of toppling off the edge into the abyss of failure. Would Jack revoke the Bond between them? Brock wouldn’t blame him if he did, he often felt that he ended up in Jack’s world by some remarkable mistake. Mistake or not he was there and now he had to play the role -- and that included the hard parts. Jack was dressing when Brock drew a deep breath and stepped away from the full body mirror. 

“You’re going to be fine.” Jack repeated himself, just as firmly has he had in the bathroom. 

Brock wanted desperately to believe him. Had he been a proper omega he would have because good omegas trusted their Alphas completed. It wasn’t that Brock didn’t trust Jack, it was that Brock wasn’t the omega he pretended to be. Brock had ordered teas in preparation, exotic teas, and now all he needed was tea time refreshments. He stopped at the organic market -- surely these omegas would have a fine palate and expect only the finest of ingredients -- and grabbed a basket. He had a list he’d memorized after obsessing over it for the days leading up to his arrival at the store and he made his way through quickly. 

By the time he got home Jack was long gone and the antebellum architecture home was empty and open. Brock parked in the horseshoe driveway and hurried inside. He had plenty of time -- they wouldn’t arrive until 3, which offered him ample time to scrub the already impeccably clean home from top to bottom. There were plenty of things that could be deemed a fatal flaw in omegas but an inability to keep a clean home was the very first one followed shortly by fertility. He kept a careful eye on the clock, well aware he tended to get swept into his cleaning and lost track of time. A few times he had served a late dinner because of it. Jack never upset about it though he was firm about his time management skills. Brock thought he got off too lightly but who was he to question what how his Alpha chose to discipline him? 

At two he went upstairs and changed into his tea time outfit: a crisp white linen shirt and arctic blue chinos. It was light and airy, good for the mid August weather. He went down to the kitchen and got busy putting together cucumber finger sandwiches, radish, parsley and lemon-butter tea sandwiches, radish tea sandwich with miso, and deviled ham sandwiches on marbled rye. Then he got out and arranged already made items: sesame tuiles, sweet lemon-poppy biscuits, and orange-cranberry scones with turbinado sugar.

When Brock took a step back it seemed like a good spread but, as an afterthought, he dished out some orange marmalade into a small crystal dessert dish for the scone and biscuits. He assessed his work, drew in a short nervous breath that he released in the form of a sob like laugh and then turned on the bone china. His understanding was it had been in the Rollins family of years, so carried them with the utmost care to the table on the patio. The patio had a beautiful view of the fruit grove, a collection of pawpaws, peaches, pears and apples. Every now and then the wind would blow and carry with it the mouth watering smell of ripe pears and peaches. Brock could see the fruit from the natural stone patio. The glass top table had been polished and currently glimmered brightly in the afternoon sun. It was a warm afternoon but not too warm enough to discourage weekly tea unfortunately -- though Brock assumed that it would simply be moved inside rather than cancelled. 

He smoothed his shirt and checked his watch. They would be arriving any moment. He hurried inside, past the fridge where the trays of food were that he’d carry out when everyone was situated. He stood in the hall, adjusting the spider plant on the entryway table. He had to remind himself to breathe, hoping he wouldn’t flood the house with his nervousness. Despite expecting it Brock still jumped at the bell and quickly opened the door. He was faced with a blonde man, small and slender with big blue eyes. He was wearing a light gray button down and chinos. He recognized him from club dinners though his name escaped him. Brock hadn’t even thought about that: he didn’t know their names. 

“Hi,” the omega said and Brock kicked himself. 

He was already failing as a host and he hadn’t even started hosting. “Hi -- hello. I’m Brock.” 

“I know that,” the omega laughed. It wasn’t a cruel laugh, he seemed genuinely amused. “I’m Steve, in case you didn’t know that.” 

“Steve.” Oh thank God he’d said something. That would make things a bit less awkward. “Welcome.” 

He stepped aside to let Steve in and the omega wandered in, looking around curiously. “I’ve never seen inside of Jack’s house before,” Steve shared, peering around the corner into the parlor room. “You two have a beautiful home.” 

“Thank you.” Brock hadn’t considered the house his. The house belonged to Jack, just like Brock belonged to him. 

The bell rang again and he jumped once more. If Steve saw he didn’t say anything. Brock was torn between wanting to see where Steve wandered to and answering the door promptly. Steve vanished around a corner and Brock made a low suffering sound and moved to the door. Pulling open the door he plastered on the most welcoming of smiles he could and was faced with a woman. She had green eyes and flowing red hair. She was wearing a yellow a-line dress and held herself with regality that made Brock want to shrink away in defeat. 

“Hi,” he stepped aside to let her in. 

“Hello,” she said shortly, stepping in. Her heels clicked against the granite floors of the foyer. “I’m Natasha in case you didn’t catch my name at the Black Tie.” 

Brock was grateful that they were sharing their names. “Welcome, Natasha.” he said as warmly as he could. 

She turned her green eyes on him, looking him up and down before she looked away and hummed, wandering into the house with the same curiosity Steve had. He tried to trail along, maybe kindle a conversation but the bell went off again. Brock wondered if they had planned to come one at a time so they’d have time to pick the house over while he was letting others in. There were only two more omegas that were supposed to come thankfully. Pulling open the door he was met with another woman, young and fresh faced with red hair a shade darker than Natasha’s, her green eyes more earthy. She was wearing an aquamarine blouse and high waist salmon cotton shorts. 

“Hi.” Brock was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed. Both women looked a lot alike, how was he supposed to tell them apart? How offended would they get if he got them mixed up? 

“Has everyone else arrived?” 

“Just Steve and Natasha.” 

“Oh! Clint is always late,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “What’s Nat?” 

“Uh, I’m not too certain. She kind of…wandered.” 

“We’ve been dying to see the inside of this place for years,” she told him in a low voice. “It looks so beautiful. Can I take a look around?” 

She didn’t wait for an answer, she just walked off, just like the others. Brock had no idea what to make of it. He’d expected stiffness, for everyone to be poised and elegant, not nosy. Would Jack be okay with a bunch of omegas poking around his home? Brock’s stress took on a different note as he hurried after the new woman. He caught sight of Steve slipping into the family room when he entered the reception hall but Natasha was drifting off into the powder room which probably wasn't a big deal but Brock’s stress level had him worried about everything. “Um, Natasha -- ”

The bell went off again. The red head peered out momentarily but when he turned his head towards the door she vanished again. Brock huffed out an anxious breath and hurried back to the door. He pulled it open and was met by a blond man built a bit more sturdier than Steve. He was wearing khakis and a heathered white tee. Brock deduced this was Clint. 

“Hey! Brock right?” 

Brock wasn’t aware omegas from their social circle could be so loud. “Y-yes.” 

“Clint. I dunno if we met. I think we did… Hey, is Nat here?” 

“Somewhere.” 

Brock could hear the irritation in his voice and was immediately petrified. What if Clint shared his annoyance with her? What if she told her Alpha who told Jack? What if he didn't tell Jack but told all the other Alphas what a rude omega Jack had? 

“Oh yeah we’ve been just dying to check out this place.” Clint said and Brock realized he was still standing on the doorstep. He stood aside, already prepared for the omega to vanish with the others to explore the deepest recesses of the plantation home. “So what’s Jack like? Is he super strict? He seems like he’d be super strict.” 

While Brock hadn’t known what to expect from tea time with the club’s omegas he certainly had expected this. “Uh,” he hedged. “He’s good.” 

Clint squinted at him a moment and then the clicking of heels snapped him out of the moment. He turned around to look at Natasha who was heading across the reception hall to the grand staircase without any ounce of shame. Brock was powerless to stop the exploration so he gave up. He went to the kitchen and mourned the loss of control. Maybe this was a test to see if he was assertive enough. If it was he had failed epically and now the house would smell like all the omegas who were trapezing through it, satisfying a curiosity that had been in them for a long time. 

At least Brock had spent the day cleaning. 

They ended up finding him in the end. Steve first, stepping in with a satisfied smile. “This place is beautiful,” he said. “All I’ve seen is the dining room.” 

Brock didn’t know what to say so he smiled feebly and hoped that Jack wouldn’t be too angry with him. Clint came back next, sharing the same sentiment -- he’d been curious about the interior of Jack’s home for some time and he was glad to have satisfied that curiosity. The redheads appeared next, deep in conversation about the master bedroom’s sitting room. Brock wasn’t exactly comfortable knowing strangers had poked around where he not only slept but had sex. It felt a gross invasion of privacy. He almost voiced that before he weighed the pros and cons of it. Currently they all seemed satisfied and if that was all it took then Brock could suck it up. 

“Do you guys still want tea?” he asked. 

They all turned their attention on him and Clint laughed. “Tea time isn’t about literal tea -- wait, you thought it was?” 

“Don’t laugh at him, Clint. He doesn’t know.” Steve scolded him. “It’s tradition you see, so of course Alphas insist on it. But it’s a bit outdated, as you can imagine. Typically we treat it as a catch up with snacks.” 

“There are snacks right?” Clint asked anxiously. “You made snacks?” 

Brock felt like an idiot. Why wouldn’t Jack have told him that? “So no tea?” 

“No, there’s still tea. It’s still traditional. But it’s not as...stuffy as what you’re thinking. Like, Wanda for example,” he gestured to the other redhead and Brock was grateful to have a name for the face. “Makes iced tea. As long as we’re gathering weekly and there’s tea they’re happy.” 

“Happy Alpha, happy life,” Clint said. “But there are snacks right?” 

“Yes, I have plenty of snacks. And tea.” 

“We’ve been awful guests so far,” Steve said with a frown. “We let our excitement get the best of us. I can tell you’re new to all this.” 

Brock’s stomach plummeted. They could tell he didn’t belong. “You can?” 

“With an accent that thick you’ve got to be from deep Kentucky.” Brock averted his eyes. “Hey, there’s no shame in that. I didn’t mean it negatively I just mean… This kind of stuff hasn’t been drilled into you by the time you could walk. We’ll show you the ropes.” 

“You will?” Brock asked. 

Steve smiled. “Of course we will. What kind of friends would be if we didn’t?” 

Friends? Brock hadn’t expected to reach that kind of a rapport with the group of omegas for a long while, much less during their very first official meeting. “We shouldn’t have walked over you,” Natasha said suddenly. “I apologize.” 

Her voice was chipped and cold despite the intention behind her words and Brock didn’t know what to make of it. Wanda nodded her head in agreement. “I’m sorry,” she contributed. She, unlike Natasha, sounded like she genuinely meant it. 

“Yeah, me too. Although it was really cool to see this place finally.” Clint said, eyes scouring the kitchen for the snacks that were current in the fridge. “Is it tea time?” 

“Do you ever think about anything other than eating?” 

“Uh, once a month all I think about is sex.” Clint replied with a cocky grin. 

Brock had never heard an omega talk openly about their heat. He had been raised with the understanding that it was something immensely private and, until Bonded, nearly shameful. Each heat unbonded was a heat wasted without children as his nonna always told him. Jack didn’t seem interested in children yet but Brock knew it was coming soon. He could see it in the way he stroked Brock’s abdomen when he was knotted, like he was already imagining the life growing inside him. Brock shook his head to get back to the present. His nonna always told him he had a wandering mind; it wasn’t a good trait for an omega. 

The group snorted, murmuring their agreement and Brock felt color creeping up his cheeks. Brock cleared his throat softly and turned away to hide his embarrassment as such a topic, opening the fridge so Clint could catch sight of the food. “How about the tea?” 

“Oh sure.” Steve said. “Inside or out?” 

“I thought it would be nice on the terrace.” 

“The terrace sounds nice,” Wanda said. “Can we help you carry anything?” 

Brock refused; even if this was informal he was holding himself to Jack’s standards and that meant doing things right. They filed out behind him, murmuring their appreciation for the location and the smell of the fruit hanging in the air. “It’s really beautiful here,” Wanda said wistfully. “It’ll be the perfect place to raise a family.” 

That was what Brock had thought when he first saw the home and he was glad it wasn’t only him imagining raising a family. One days like today he could imagine children running between the trees playing tag while Brock oversaw them, serving Jack a tall glass of lemonade. An ideal image of the perfect family. 

“I think so too,” he said. 

He brought out the boxes of tea; white jasmine and rose, white pearls, peach cobbler guayusa, and rooibos, a small pitcher of milk and cubes of sugar. “Ooh fancy tea,” Clint said scooting close to the boxes. 

Everyone else was still getting settled looking appreciatively around at the area. The grill was covered and pulled to the side. The frosted tempered glass roof above them provided a bit of shade to them as Brock brought out a kettle of boiling water that he used to steep the tea. Four tea pots, one for each tea. He set the dishes in the center of the table, anxiously stepping back to re-evaluate it with a critical eye. 

“It looks great.” Steve said, reaching for the rooibos. “You did an incredible job.” 

Brock could have cried, he was so relieved that his efforts had paid off. He sunk down in the open seat between Natasha and Steve. The cold eyed woman was helping herself to white pearls tea, dropping a cube of sugar into the cup. Clint was busy slathering a biscuit with marmalade. Wanda was sipping her tea and Steve was stirring milk into his. It was quiet, the calls of warblers filling the silence until Steve spoke. 

“So how are you liking the country club?” 

“Oh it’s great.” Brock said immediately. 

“How do you really feel?” Natasha demanded. 

Brock wasn’t sure if he liked her or not. “I… Well, it’s different.” 

“That’s one name for it,” Clint said with a heavy exhale. “I for one hate it. All that posturing -- and for what?” 

“To represent your Alpha.” Wanda reminded him, just as Brock was about to. He liked her. 

“Well, besides that.” Clint took a drink of his tea, crinkling his nose and reached for the sugar cubes. He plopped in two and gave the tea a stir as they dissolved in the hot liquid. “It’s not like they have anything to prove. Phil’s an FBI agent; you don’t get much better than that. What does it matter what I do?” 

“Because you’re a representation of him the same way his job is.” Wanda said, tone a bit scolding now. They were edging into territory that was improper to talk about regardless of social stature. Omegas were meant to obey their Alphas, no ifs ands or buts. 

Clint realized that and just sighed wistfully, going back to his tea. 

“Tell me about yourself,” Steve requested politely.

“There’s not much to tell.” 

Brock had grown up in eastern Kentucky, the lowest income area of the state. It felt shameful to share, like he was going to dirty Jack’s name by polluting it with Brock’s less than ideal beginnings. “Sure there is.” 

Brock swallowed dryly. What Jack would say if he was there, Brock didn’t know. Maybe he would have interrupted and changed the conversation direction. Maybe he would have looked expectantly at Brock, waiting for him to answer. 

“I grew up in Cow Creek.” Brock lowered his voice shamefully as he waited for the shoe to drop. For the omegas to realize that he didn’t belong among them and turn their noses up at him. 

“Was it pretty there?” Wanda asked curiously. 

Brock hadn’t expected questions. “I thought so.” Brock glanced at his surroundings. “Not as pretty as it is here though.” 

“I’d say. It’s hard to beat a place like this,” Steve looked at the grove. “It must be lovely to be able to bake with such fresh fruit.” 

Brock smiled. “It is.” 

Brock poured himself some tea and reached for a tuile. Crisp, crunchy, and just a little sweet it paired well with the peach cobbler tea. Steve and Natasha started to talk about an upcoming Club event they called a mulligan. Brock wasn’t certain what it was but he was afraid to ask in fear of sounding stupid. He’d ask Jack tonight. Attention was turned back on him as they asked if they were attending. Brock could honestly say he wasn’t certain because he didn’t know. The mulligan was news to him. Steve hummed at that and continued to talk about how boring he found standing on the green to be. Ah. It had to do with golf. 

Brock had to admit that he found golf dreadfully boring. He felt guilty for feeling that way, Jack enjoyed it, but he simply didn’t see the appeal. It made him a bad omega, not showing active interest in his Alpha’s hobbies but no matter how hard Brock tried to be active in it, he couldn’t. Thankfully he was usually left at the tennis court with the other omegas. Brock hadn’t cared much for tennis either but after hours of playing he found a bit of enjoyment in it. Maybe it could work that way for golfing. He wasn’t going to hold his breath on that though. 

“Cow Creek, hmm?” Natasha said, suddenly sending the conversation between Clint and Wanda to a screeching halt. “Never heard of it. What county is that? Fayette? You’re certainly not from Boone, much less here in Oldham.” 

This was Brock’s worst nightmare come to life. “Uh, no. It’s not Fayette.” He was about to expose himself to ridicule. “It’s, um, it’s Owsley County.” 

Natasha squinted at him and then she brushed her hair away from her neck. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s not very big.” That wasn’t a lie, exactly. Technically it was larger than Oldham but he didn’t need to mention that. Brock thought he could get away with half truths. “Is the tea okay?” 

“Fine -- better than fine, actually. It’s really good. Next time you don’t have to go quite so far out. I can’t imagine how much time you had to put into all of this,” Steve said and Wanda nodded in agreement. 

Clint was busy on his fourth cucumber sandwich. Brock wasn’t certain if he’d allow himself to slack on something that Jack expected to be up to a particular standard for now he nodded and acted like he could. Brock's attention was focused on Natasha for the rest of the hour. She contributed when she felt like but mostly she was quiet, looking around, taking stock of her surroundings, strangely alert. Why, Brock didn’t know, but it felt impolite to ask so he didn’t. He sipped his tea, already plotting clean up. He would have to move fast if he wanted dinner hot on the table when Jack returned from work. Despite how accommodating he’d been there was only so much the Alpha would tolerate and Brock didn’t want to see Jack reach that point when their Bond was still so new. 

As the tea time wrapped up and the last dregs of tea were all that remained, Brock saw them all the door. Steve surprised him with a hug that was followed up by everyone but Natasha. Brock began to think that she hated him. 

“It was really great to get to know you. It’s been too long since there's been a fresh face around. I’ll see you on the tennis court on Saturday, yes?” Wanda asked, sage green eyes glimmering with competitive excitement.

“Saturday,” he agreed. 

He watched them go to their cars and drive away. The second they were out of sight the tension drained from him, sapping him of all his strength and he sagged where he stood. He wanted to lay down and sleep for an entire day to recover but that wasn’t an option. Cleaning up didn’t take as long as he expected. He stored away the tea for the next rotation and did up the dishes. He wished he had sent the food home with Clint as he packed it up and put it in the fridge with no idea who would eat it. 

Maybe Jack would get peckish in the evening and the finger food would work as a snack? 

Tonight he was preparing a goat loin chops. It was something that could be prepared on the grill rather than heating up the house and having the central heating overwork itself. They had been marinating for the past few hours. He tossed baby red potatoes in coarse grain salt, garlic and rosemary before putting it in a single layer and covering it with tin foil. He poured charcoal into the grill and got it up to temperature. His nonna had taught him to cook well with nothing and now, with limitless money towards prime ingredients, he could show off what skills he did have. It felt like a genuine skill, like he wasn’t selling himself as something he wasn’t. Jack seemed to enjoy his cooking as well which bolstered up his confidence a bit. 

The chops were just coming off the grill when Brock heard the door open. He brought them inside to rest, washed and dried his hands, and met Jack in the reception hall. He kissed him, a short welcoming peck, and Brock took his suit jacket, work satchel and keys. It didn’t take long for him to start sniffing however and Brock realized he’d forgotten about the others poking around. Hopefully he would think it had simply dispersed to different rooms. 

“How did it go?” 

“Good...I think.” Brock still didn’t know what Natasha thought about him. She didn’t seem to care much for him like the others did. He knew he shouldn’t care what one omega thought of him if the majority seemed to like him but he couldn’t help but worry. “I don’t think Natasha likes me much.” 

“Natasha is...Natasha.” Jack said shortly. “She’ll warm up to you in her own time. I’m going to change for dinner.” 

Brock nodded, anxiety twisted in the pit of his stomach. Jack would get upstairs and smell the foreign omegas and know that Brock had lost control of his guests. Would he be angry with him? Brock wouldn’t blame him if he was; it was his job to entertain them, not to let them wander. He went to the kitchen, head buzzing with nervous static, and sliced the chops, fanning them over a bed of toasted orzo, sauteed okra and baby potatoes. It was meal fitting for an Alpha who had worked a long hard day to provide for his household. 

“Ah our guests wandered, I see.” Brock jumped, nearly dropping Jack’s plate as he appeared behind him. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to allow them to -- ”

“I’m not upset. I expected as much. There’s always been curiosity about my house, I’m glad they finally have satisfied it.” 

“You...you’re not mad?” Brock has hesitantly, afraid he would flip his opinion. 

“Of course not.” Jack took his plate and nodded towards Brock’s. Brock picked it up. “Come with me.” 

Brock obediently trailed behind him the table. It was too big for two people; it was meant for a family. A family it would one day house, should Brock be the omega that Jack deserved. Brock sat to his left. He didn’t eat until Jack had taken his first bite and nodded his approval. For a while there was just the clink of cutlery against porcelain as they ate. Then Jack began to talk about his day and Brock listened, rapt and attentive. Jack then opened the floor to Brock, asking about the conversation he’d had over tea. It crossed his mind to lie to him, to pretend that it had been as proper as Brock had thought it would be but he didn’t dare. 

“It wasn’t at all as I thought it would be. It’s not nearly so…rigid.” 

Jack laughed, rich and warm. “I didn’t think so.” He cut a piece of goat. “Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“Yes. I think so, at least.” Brock said and after a tick asked, “What’s a mulligan?”

“It’s a fundraiser. In layman's terms is a ‘do-over’ for golfing. You buy a certain number of do-overs to use during a game.” Brock thought it sounded boring but he tried to sound interested. “I believe the club will be holding one at the end of the month.” 

“Will you be attending?” 

“Yes. You can expect to attend all fundraisers.” 

“Yes sir.” Brock definitely wasn’t looking forward to it but it was his job to stand by his Alpha’s side and he took that seriously. 

Jack cleaned his plate and requested seconds which Brock fetched. He put his plate on the counter and sat at his side while he ate. When he was finished Brock busied himself with cleaning up the kitchen and restoring it to its previous neatness. Jack was in the living room in his armchair watching the news. Brock entered and immediately went to the drybar in the wall and poured Jack his evening glass of Angel’s Envy. Jack didn’t look away from the screen as he took the glass. Brock sat on the edge of the beige sectional. The faint smell of the other omegas lingered: pineapples, fresh ink, sandalwood and strawberries. Brock ignored it, watching the level of Jack’s drink while the news anchor talked about foreign currency drops. 

“Did you make anything sweet for tea?” Jack asked suddenly. 

Brock perked up. “I picked up lemon-poppy biscuits and orange-cranberry scones.” 

“Get me one of those scones, will you?” 

“Of course. Would you like it buttered? I have orange marmalade?” 

“Marmalade sounds fine,” Jack glanced away from the screen. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Brock fetched the requested dessert and brought it to Jack. He nodded his approval and warmth spread throughout Brock’s chest. He craved his approval, needed it like he needed air. The evening was quiet and eventful and by the time they retired to bed all the anxieties about the day had evaporated leaving behind tranquility. 

He curled up in Jack’s arms, sleepy and a safe and let the day slip away, replaced by Jack’s scent and warmth.


End file.
